Fresh Start
by InsideOutlaw
Summary: Missing scene from the pilot. Times are changing.


"Looking back over the last ten years, d'you know what bugs me most?" asked Kid Curry. He was propped against the thick fleece underside of his upturned saddle with his legs stretched out comfortably in front of him, a woolen saddle blanket tossed over them to keep out the night's chill. The collar of his sheepskin coat was turned up and his gloved hands held a steaming cup of coffee as the stars overhead shone brightly in the cold, moonless night. Moonless had been the only thing that had saved their butts today.

Heyes was across from him, hunched over next to a small, economical fire, repairing a rein. It had snapped in half earlier in the day when his horse had stepped on it as he'd vaulted off to take cover from the bullets whistling around them. They'd sought high ground and nearly exhausted their ammunition in an effort to dissuade the posse from further pursuit. It hadn't worked and they'd decided to press on hoping to outrun the lawmen before their horses were as depleted as their bullets. He could still smell the odor of gunpowder permeating his gray jacket.

He'd caught his gelding, hastily knotted the broken ends and, luckily, the repair held as the two men had kept running for their lives from the angry mob on their tails. It had taken another three hours and the dark of night to lose the posse. One more hour and they'd found a suitable spot to hole up in.

The enormous slab of Navajo sandstone hiding them had fissured from the tall cliff looming behind them and slid its way to the ground coming to rest intact and upright. It listed at an eighty degree angle against a large boulder like an open fan resting against a buxom woman's chest. They couldn't have asked for better concealment. A pack of coyotes yowling mournfully across the valley signaled other creatures had been less fortunate.

Heyes carefully worked an awl through the damaged end of the longest piece of rein, punching new holes in order to lace the shortened leather to the bit. His attention was completely focused on the task at hand and he replied to his partner with a distracted, "Hmm?"

Curry's eyes narrowed and his mouth curved into a slight smirk. "You, Heyes, you've bugged me most over the last ten years. I don't know how I lasted this long with you so wrapped up in your own thoughts. Guess it's 'cause none of the ladies wanna have anything to do with you. More for me."

"Good."

"Good?" The Kid saw his chance and started laying on the lies. "You think it's good those two little fillies in Pueblo said you were the butt-ugliest man they'd ever seen? What about Millie? She said you smelled like a varmint. She said I couldn't pay her enough money in the world to make her take up with you."

"That's nice." Heyes continued poking the leather strap until he yanked his hand from the rein, "Ouch!" He plunged a finger in his mouth. "Stop distracting me!"

"I'm the one who needs distractin'," observed Curry, only to receive a dark glare. "You know, havin' that posse run us to ground is the most excitement I've had all year. How'd long have we been holed up in the cabin workin' on this plan? Four, five weeks? And what do we have to show for it? We dragged that damn safe to hell and back and still couldn't get it open."

"Don't start, Kid!" Heyes threw down the reins and stood up, clearly annoyed. "You were the one who said it'd be a piece of cake! Easy money, isn't that what you kept saying?"

"It would've been, too, if Kyle hadn't gotten the dynamite wet durin' the stream crossin'." The Kid chuckled.

Realizing his partner had only been prodding him for fun, Heyes visibly relaxed and grinned. "Yeah, it was almost worth it to see the look on Wheat's face when we stepped aside as leaders. Who knew a body could go so pale?" Using his sleeve, he picked up the battered tin pot from the fire and poured himself a mug of coffee. He retrieved his reins and used his foot to kick sand over the coals of the fire until their soft, red glow was extinguished. Heyes walked over to the Kid and tossed the mended tack to one side before sitting down and leaning back against his own saddle, mug in hand. "So what bugs you? Besides, me that is."

Curry stared out into the darkness. "Here we are, ten years down the road from Valparaiso, and what do we have to show for it?"

"Well, I do see some gray hairs sprouting up on your rooftop." Heyes sipped from his mug.

"I'm serious. Did we really just quit our gang?" Curry didn't sound particularly upset at the concept, he sounded almost hopeful.

"Think of it as a vacation. Wheat's been yammering for years he'd be a better leader. Well, the boys are about to find out. My guess, we've got a month or two to relax before they beg us to come back."

"There's only one problem, Heyes."

"What's that?"

The Kid put down his mug and, reaching into his pants pocket, withdrew a handful of change and carefully counted it. "I've got ten dollars and fifty-two cents and I'm bettin' you don't have much more."

Heyes sighed. "Less. Seven dollars and thirty-three cents."

"You know without lookin'?"

"It was change from the last twenty I broke."

Curry closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the soft fleece. "Times like this I wished we'd been a bit better about savin' some of our hard-earned dinero."

"Why? It wasn't like we were saving for a rainy day. Hell, Kid, we never knew if we'd be alive one day to the next. Still don't."

Grinning, the Kid eagerly asked, "So what d'you wanna do? We could ride over Laramie way, find us a saloon off the beaten path and have a little fun, make a little walking-around cash. Then we could go south. Get us some pretty senoritas and soak up the sun."

Heyes frowned, put down his empty mug, and pulled his own saddle blanket over him. "There's fifty grand in that safe at the bottom of the lake. The law thinks we've got it and I don't think they're gonna let that slide. They'll be looking high and low for us from here to the border."

Pondering their situation, it was a few minutes before the Kid spoke again. "I'm getting real sick of runnin' all the time, partner. You said it yourself, we ain't long for this world. Times are changing. It ain't gonna be long before every wide spot in the road is linked up to the local sheriff by one of them new-fangled telephones. We're livin' on borrowed time."

"Geez, you're real cheerful tonight."

"Maybe we should give Miss Birdie's flyer another look-see."

"Don't start, Kid…"

"I know, I know," said Curry, holding up a gloved hand to stave off an argument. "It's for chicken thieves but, think about it for a darn minute, Heyes. Maybe the governor was hopin' to get penny-ante crooks off the streets, but if you pitched it just right even he'd have to see it could solve a lot of his problems. We're the biggest outlaws in the West. If he got us to quit, all those bankers and railroad tycoons would be so grateful he'd write his own ticket forever."

Heyes gawked at his partner, speechless for a moment. The Kid had a point. Recovering, he smiled. "What do you mean _me_ pitch it?"

"You're the one with the silver tongue."

"You're sounding awful silvery yourself right now." Heyes sat up, his blanket sliding down to his waist. "You know, you may just have something here, partner."

Delighted, Curry smiled broadly. "You think it could work?"

"Yeah, I do. What have we got to lose? If it works, we get to start over, make new lives for ourselves. Hopefully, ones where we don't get shot at all the time; if it don't, we keep on keeping on."

"So, we'll do it?"

"I mean we can't risk going to the governor ourselves. He'd just lock us up and throw away the key. We need us a go-between. Someone to parlay for us."

"Who?"

"I don't know. It's gotta be someone on the right side of the law otherwise he'd end up locked up, too."

"We don't know anyone honest, Heyes." A gleam in his eye, the Kid sat up, too, excited. "We could send Clem. She could talk the clouds outta the sky."

"Naw, politician like the governor would never listen to a gal, even a gal as smart as Clem. It's got to be someone he'd respect."

"What about that crooked judge we bribed?"

"He'd be good, but he doesn't really know us all that well, Kid."

They sat silently contemplating their friends and acquaintances for some time.

"I've got it!" Heyes sprang up. "Remember our old buddy, Lom? Rode with us early on."

The Kid looked stunned at the suggestion. "He's a sheriff, Heyes! He's just gonna lock us up, too!"

"Not if we approach him right. Remind him of his old friends and how we've never troubled his town."

Grinning evilly, Curry said, "I wonder if ol' Lom ever fixed that back door of his?"

"I say we ride for Porterville in the morning, pay Lom a visit." Pleased, Heyes sat back down and pulled the saddle blanket back up to his chest. "Who knows, Kid, this time next week we could have amnesty."

The Kid slipped his hand inside his sheepskin coat and withdrew a dented flask, lifting it up and saluting his best friend. "To amnesty." He drank and passed it to Heyes.

Taking the flask, the dark-haired outlaw leader drank deeply, choking slightly as the firewater burn his tonsils. He returned the salute. "To a fresh start."


End file.
